


Dust to Dust

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Post-War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn betrayed the Fellowship to Sauron. Four years later,when everyone is long dead, he reflects...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust to Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

The land is desolated, scorched black by the great fire, stretching out as far as I can see. My ears have not yet forgotten the roaring of it, my skin not the heat and my eyes, ah, I was a blind fool at that time.

And I have yet to feel regret.

A white, pure snow slowly covers the bare desert, covering up my many mistakes. How ironic it seems to me.  
The halls are empty. The cold stones carry the whispers of a thousand years, of people's joy and tears, of the screams I tore from them these last four years. All in His name. Now there's no one left within these bleak walls. My prison cell.  
The city has crumbled, a shadow of it former glory, back to the pile of rock it once was hewn from.

Dust to dust.

Through the broken windowpanes I stare to the east. Twirling snowflakes obscuring my vision. I laugh mirthlessly. The forges of the East lie dormant it seems, their fires diminished to a threatening glow, a present reminder. There was no one left to fight them, no one who dares oppose Him. I do not search to defeat Him.  
I still await salvation, as it was promised to me.  
My only companion in this lonely existence is the withered tree, a bittersweet memory. It's hollowed, worn nearly to death and yet it still bears leaves. A few, colourless gray leaves. It's white bark is torn away by the wolves' claws. They search for me.

The wind howls, plays within the room. It tugs at the curtains, the pages on the desk rustle giving it all an eerie sense of life. The sound echoes within the halls, trapped between those walls as I am, shrieking in it's agony. Leaves from last autumn swirl across the floor, the sound of scurrying rats. I do not turn around. The wolves have come to claim me.

Forlorn, I see the wind play among the last tree leaves…and scatter them.

So sorry for the days to come  
So sorry for the days we're living in  
Sorry for what I have become


End file.
